


Frederick Chilton's Long Term, Committed Relationship With Rosy Palms

by elithewho



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Cunnilingus, Double Penetration, F/M, Gangbang, Humiliation, M/M, Masturbation, Porn Watching, Restraints, Sexual Fantasy, Vaginal Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-01
Updated: 2014-10-01
Packaged: 2018-02-19 11:07:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,600
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2386118
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elithewho/pseuds/elithewho
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A day in the life of Dr. Frederick Chilton, prolific masturbater.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Frederick Chilton's Long Term, Committed Relationship With Rosy Palms

**Author's Note:**

> For Morgan, as always.

Frederick Chilton begins all his mornings in the same way, or at least he tries to. He finds it comforting to have a routine. Hot, freshly pressed espresso, a solid fifteen minutes of grooming, careful consideration of his wardrobe and a good wank in the shower. The last one is not something he ever plans for, exactly, but it always seems like an appealing option while soaping up in the shower, his morning wood still half-hard. Plus, he can be as loud as he wants without feeling embarrassed by his moans resounding in his empty bedroom.

He doesn’t often think of anything in particular during his morning uh, sessions, he tells himself it’s a stress relieving exercise, a good way to start the day fresh. Quick and dirty with a little conditioner for lube, furiously fisting his cock under the hot spray of water, groaning into the surge of noise from the showerhead, and then splattering onto the shower curtain with a grunt, knees going briefly weak, head swimming.

Afterwards, Frederick always tells himself that he doesn’t need to masturbate anymore that day, he’ll be perfectly content with just a quickie in the morning, and he doesn’t really need that one either, he just chooses to do it for purely biologically motivated reasons. 

At the office, Frederick feels confident that he can focus on his work with his mind unfettered. He has a morning appointment with Dr. Bloom, another circular conversation about Will Graham to file away with the others. She remains convinced that Graham is not criminally responsible, that he is a broken bird, that he needs some sort of soft, tender psychology to bring him out of the darkness. Frederick could almost feel bad for Dr. Bloom if he didn’t feel so smug. It pains him to see such a respected colleague fall for such sentimentality. 

The conversation goes nowhere, as usual, and Frederick amuses himself with some innocent fantasizing. Innocent at first, at least. He recalls with a bitter pang that he had asked Dr. Bloom out for dinner when they had first become acquainted and she had coolly rejected him. Lucky for him they were both such professionals. Watching her sitting across from him, her pale, naked knees, her luscious body wrapped in the bold, bright colors she is so fond of, Frederick imagines her standing up and walking around his desk, then sitting on it, parting her knees so slightly, flashing just the hint of soft, inner thigh. 

“How good are you at eating pussy, Dr. Chilton?” she says in her soft, wheedling psychiatrist voice. “Just by looking at you, I’d say bad to mediocre.”

Frederick can feel his dick getting hard in his trousers and he finds himself staring at her legs, crossed together modestly.

“Dr. Chilton?” she says, in reality this time and Frederick starts.

“Yes, sorry,” he says quickly, grateful for the desk between them.

“I think that’s enough for today, don’t you?” she says with a hint of exasperation.

“Of course,” Frederick says, not daring to get up and show her to the door. “A pleasure, as always.”

Dr. Bloom nods, smile tight. She glides out the door, leaving Frederick alone with his erection and the smallest trace of her perfume lingering in the air.

Frederick leans back, letting his mind wander easily back into his little fantasy. Dr. Bloom sitting on his desk, her knees parted. She stares down at him condescendingly, her lips redder and more tempting than in reality. Bad to mediocre, she said. Frederick wants to prove her wrong. He gets down on his knees and spreads her legs further, pushing up the fabric of her skirt to get his face between her thighs. She’s not wearing any panties. She smells delicious, musky and rich. She grabs his hair a little, guiding him toward her cunt, but he kisses her thigh, light, teasing pecks that make her tremble. She fists his hair rougher, nails digging into his scalp a little as she leads him to her slick wetness. Frederick follows like an obedient dog, sniffing out her clit and giving it a long, slow lick. He can feel her tense, moan and tremble under his mouth as he licks her, slow and careful to wind her up and show her how good he really is.

“Is that the best you can do?” she mutters, trying to sound unimpressed, but she’s out of breath and trying not the moan.

Frederick tries harder anyway, circling her clit with his tongue, dipping lower to fuck her with it and back again in a constant, teasing rhythm and he can feel her shake, her thighs tightening around his head, fingers pulling his hair painfully. He loves the way she twitches and tenses under his tongue, so hot and slick and delicious. He knows when she comes because she moans and writhes against him, her nails scratching hard into his scalp. 

She looks down at him kneeling before her, one hand down his trousers as he desperately fists his cock, licking his obscenely shiny lips. Her face is pink and flushed and she looks incredible, her lips twitching as she smiles.

“Who said you could touch yourself, Dr. Chilton?” she says sweetly. “You naughty boy.”

She slaps him, a harsh crack against his cheek and it stings brightly, his cock throbbing as he strokes it quicker. She hits him again, in the same place, the pain bright and sharp and he comes so hard he sees stars, biting his lip to keep from moaning, come spattering on his shirt front, his head tipped back against his chair.

Frederick lets his breathing return to normal before cleaning himself up with his handy box of tissues. It wouldn’t be the first time he thought of Dr. Bloom in that context, but that particular streak of discipline was new. For his thoughts about her, anyway. He shivers a bit, thinking about future possibilities to consider. He feels overheated and clammy from exertion, but there is still so much work to do. 

After an hour or so of good attempts at actual work, Frederick heads to Will Graham’s therapy session. In the “dunk tank” as he called it, Frederick tries his hardest to extract what he can from the man’s impenetrable mind. Dr. Bloom is delusional if she thinks she can crack his darkest secrets. At least Graham is talkative today, even if it is about fishing. Frederick listens closely at first, but it quickly becomes clear that Graham is just toying with him, as usual. Frederick sighs, his mind wandering. He bites his pen and wonders what Will Graham would think about his fantasy featuring Dr. Bloom and if Graham had ever slept with her. He thinks he might have, or at least wanted to. Frederick thinks about that for a few moments, his body stirring despite himself, mind filled with pornographic images of Graham and Dr. Bloom, all flushed and naked, writhing together frantically.

By the time Graham’s therapy session is over, Frederick has gleaned nothing useful at all and Graham seems to know it, his deadpan facial expression looking somehow smug as Frederick leaves. He’s sporting a half-hard erection all the way to the elevator and once the doors close, he strokes his cane absently, his mind still on Graham and Dr. Bloom. When he is alone again, in his office, Frederick is fully hard and thinking exclusively of Will Graham, Dr. Bloom mysteriously disappearing somewhere along the way. 

Frederick strokes himself slowly through the fabric of his trousers, entertaining a scenario where he’s the one in the dunk tank, at the mercy of Will Graham at his most ruthless. He releases a trembling breath, imagining his wrists and ankles bound in chains as Graham touches him everywhere, checking for concealed weapons probably, some flimsy excuse to get his hands on him. 

“I don’t think a simple frisking is enough, Frederick, do you?” Graham purrs into his ear, making him shiver. “I’ll have to search you a bit more… thoroughly.”

Frederick whines as Graham tugs off his prison issue jumpsuit and only in a fantasy could he strip Frederick down so easily while his hands and feet are still chained together. But his mind is already skipping eagerly to Graham bending him over a hard, metal table and sliding a hand over his ass, spreading his cheeks. Frederick moans wantonly as Graham slips a finger in and then another, stretching and teasing him open as Frederick squirms helplessly against the cold metal. His cock is aching, pressed against the table, untouched and leaking onto his stomach. Graham finger fucks him mercilessly, scraping against his prostate and chuckles when Frederick whimpers pathetically. He’s so hypersensitive that Graham can get him off by just fingering him and Frederick rocks back against his hand, shameless and desperate. Graham brushes against his prostate again and again, teasing him beyond endurance and soon Frederick is coming hard, shaking against Graham’s fingers and the cold metal table, hot semen smearing on his stomach.

In his office, Frederick lays panting on his couch, hand sticky and still wrapped around his shrinking dick. It’s Graham’s fault, he decides, cleaning himself up for the second time that morning. He has an alluring sexual energy that just works people up; it’s got nothing to do with Frederick. Dr. Bloom is the same way, waltzing into his office with her bare knees and sweet perfume. Frederick wipes the sweat from his forehead, wishing he could go home for a quick shower. But he just doesn’t have the time.

After lunch, Frederick really buckles down to get some work done. He listens to some old recordings of patients and catches himself idly tracing the outline of his cock in his pants while listening to Will Graham’s sessions. He stops himself and takes off his headphones, feeling perturbed. He calls in his secretary and asks for another espresso.

His secretary, Lacey, returns quickly and as she scurries away, Frederick inspects her backside. She has a nice ass and he often notices it. The rest of her is rather plain and unremarkable, mousey hair, pale face and a flat chest. 

“Is there anything else, Dr. Chilton?” she always says in her small, high pitched voice.

Frederick sips his espresso, wondering what she would do if he asked her to sit on his lap. Probably report him for sexual harassment. But maybe if he had something hanging over her, something to blackmail her with. He wouldn’t be so cruel as to force himself on her, per se, but he’s very curious how her ass would feel against his cock…

His hand twitches around the paper cup as the other fondles his dick leisurely. Lacey, on his lap, squirming around and teasing him deliciously, his cock rubbing against her soft, warm ass. 

“Do you like that, Dr. Chilton?” she says, much more dolled up now that she’s in his fantasy. 

Frederick groans into her hair, squeezing her ass as he thrust up against it. He doesn’t just want a lap dance, though, he wants to fuck her. He fucks her in his office, on his couch. She moans so beautifully as he thrusts into her, her hands tangled in his hair.

“Your cock is so big and thick, Dr. Chilton,” Lacey sighs as he fucks her and he kisses her face and small, pretty breasts.

He fucks her slow and deep until she’s begging for more and then he fucks her hard until she’s coming and screaming his name. He holds her in his arms as she clings to him, her heart beating powerfully against his own.

Frederick comes all over himself again, thick ropes of semen coating his shirt. Frederick wipes up his mess, again, feeling a little more pathetic than usual. He knows Lacey has a boyfriend, someone tall and handsome and she would never look twice at Frederick. Not that he really wants her, anyway. He’s just fixated on her ass.

At the end of the day, Frederick walks to his car a little stiffer than usual, his dick is a little sore and chaffed. He nods to Lacey on his way out, trying not to think about fucking her on his couch. Truth be told, he hasn’t even reached his record of most wanks in a given work day. But all in all, it’s been busy, in terms of masturbation. 

At home, Frederick orders take out and pours himself a few glasses of wine. Vegetarian Indian curry, from a place he hasn’t tried before. Frederick never orders from the same place two nights in a row, he tells himself this is for variety, but really, he hates the idea of becoming some place’s regular customer. That lonely guy with the cane, always orders for one.

Frederick queues up Netflix and finds himself getting tipsy from the wine. It’s a night like any other, his same empty house and takeout boxes strewn over his table, his same ability to kill a whole bottle of wine all by himself. 

When he can’t take it anymore, Frederick retires to his bed and his laptop with his old standby porn sites still open on his browser. There’s a video he particularly likes, but he can’t bring himself to dive right into it. He has to work himself up to it, starting with basic vanilla scenarios, blow jobs and anal sex, the familiar cheesy soundtracks and fake moaning. His dick is hard, but not really from the porn he’s watching, but from anticipation of what he’s leading up to. When he feels ready, really depraved enough, he finds that well-worn tab and hits play. It’s a prison scenario, featuring a twinky gay porn star in an orange jumpsuit getting gangbanged by the guards. It’s a little more violent than the norm, the twink is a little more reluctant and the guards beat him up before the orgy commences.

Frederick props his laptop on the nightstand so he can grab his lube with a shaking hand. He jerks himself forcefully, the sting from his sore skin making the feeling more intense. With both hands free, Frederick fondles his balls, squeezing roughly and then seeking out his asshole. On his laptop screen, the poor prisoner is getting spit roasted. Frederick groans, slipping two lubed fingers into his ass. In his mind, he’s getting plowed from behind and in his mouth, some huge cock choking him as he is helplessly used and abused. He squeezes his dick hard, fingering himself eagerly as he imagines Will Graham forcing his cock down his throat, and then pulling out to come on his face. The images on the screen and his own fantasies merged, the abusive prison guards beating him and then fucking him, Graham beating him and fucking him, confused, violent images of Dr. Bloom and Lacey, hurting him, using him for their own pleasure…

Frederick comes harder than he ever had that day, hips thrusting erratically, fingers buried in his own ass, grunts mingling with the violent sounds emanating from his laptop. He lays in stupor for a few moments, and then shuts his laptop with a trembling hand still slick with lube. He’s utterly shattered, his brain and body feeling curiously pummeled.

As Frederick cleans up after himself, he contemplates the fact that it isn’t all that unusual for him to masturbate so much in one day. Every morning he wakes up and jerks off in the shower, telling himself that he doesn’t really have to do it anymore that day. But when he gets horny so often, what’s he supposed to do?


End file.
